


Forever or Never

by LadyFogg



Series: Constantine Oneshots & Prompts [9]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer, Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Language, Oral, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet John while waiting in Ritchie’s office and he makes it clear he's interested. You make it clear, you’re not. Later that night, after a run-in with a vampire forces you on lockdown, you and John get better acquainted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever or Never

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #10 - One-Shot where the reader is Teacher's Assistant for Ritchie when John comes to visit dealing with the Shenanigans from 'A Whole World Out There'. Plenty of Snark and Sass ensues considering she doesn't really notice/care John is oggling over her.
> 
> Fic Song - https://play.spotify.com/track/35wRN83Wprvr9Bp2LDjj4P

 

It had been a year since you took over as Professor Simpson’s teaching assistant. After what happened to Adam, no one wanted the position. Even you had reservations when the professor asked. However, it would look good on your resume, so you accepted. 

The job wasn’t too difficult. Usually you helped him grade assignments and keep his lecture notes in order, giving him time to work on some data mining thing he had grown obsessed with. He tried explaining it to you once, but you figured the less you knew the better. 

Currently, you sit in the front row of the lecture hall, taking diligent notes, when you hear the door bang open. Frowning, you glance over your shoulder to see who decided to interrupt so rudely. A man in a tan trench coat struts down the aisle. You return your attention to Ritchie, who has paused to eye the man warily. Someone sits in the row behind you, and you can only assume it’s the newcomer. 

After briefly tripping over his words, Ritchie gets back into the lecture and you return to your notes. However, after awhile you start to feel eyes on you, but ignore it in favor of paying attention to your professor. At least you try. It’s hard when you know someone is staring. Slowly, you glance to your right, only to find the mysterious man watching you over his sunglasses. He removes them while smirking, giving you a small wave. 

Unimpressed, you return to your work. The lecture finishes shortly after and per usual, you go wait in the professor’s office. He’s left a stack of exams for you to help grade and you drop into his chair while you rifle through them. Barely five minutes passes when the office door opens, and you look up to find the stranger. 

“Well, hello there, love,” he says, British accent surprising you slightly. “You’re not Ritchie Simpson. You’re much prettier.” 

“I’m his teaching assistant,” you say. “He should be here in a few minutes if you’d like to wait.” 

“Ta,” the man says. He flops down on Ritchie’s couch, lounging with his arms on the back of it. 

You get up and go about your business, but he’s still watching. It’s enough to distract. “Can I help you, Mr…?” 

He smirks. “John Constantine,” he says. “And don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view.” 

“Really?” you frown, looking out the window. “Can’t see much from here.” 

John chuckles, eyeing you up and down. “Not talking ‘bout out there,” he says. 

It takes you a second to understand he means you. “Oh,” you say. Out of your element slightly, you try to shuffle through the exams, but they slip out of your hands. “Fuck.” 

Dropping to your knees, you start to pick them up. John gets off the couch to help, though you don’t notice until you look up and his face is close to yours. 

“Here you are, love,” he says, voice dropping low.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the papers. You get to your feet, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

John only has eyes for you, watching the movement carefully as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. It's a calculating gaze; a hungry one that lets you know exactly what's on his mind.

“If you have somewhere to be, I can tell Professor Simpson you stopped by,” you suggest, placing the exams on the desk. 

John smirks, tilting his head. “Trying to get rid of me?” he asks. 

You can’t help but smirk back. “Not really, just figured you’d be bored waiting,” you say. 

John takes a step forward, reaching out to fix the upturned collar of your blouse. “Oh, I’m quite entertained,” he says. “We can always use the time to get to know each other better.”

You raise an eyebrow and step around him to cross to the bookshelf. “Pass. Well, I’ve got work, so if you’ll excuse me.” 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says. “Just out of curiousity, what are you and Ritchie working on?” 

“I’m sure Professor Simpson will be happy to tell you when he gets here,” you say. It's not your place to discuss the work you and the professor are doing. If John doesn't know, then he probably isn't meant to. There’s a stack of books on the floor and you bend down to pick them up. 

John’s reflection in the window watches your movements, head tilting again to watch your ass. 

“It’s rude to stare you know,” you comment, examining the books. 

“Can’t help it when there’s a bird as lovely as you in my presence,” John says, coming to stand by your side. 

You snort with laughter, placing one of the books back in its rightful place. “You can stop hitting on me,” you tell him. “Not interested.” 

“Ah, that’s a shame,” John says, though he does not sound deterred. “Suppose I can’t change your mind?”

Sighing, you turn to face him, giving your full attention for the first time since he entered the room. He’s still smirking, eyebrow raised questioningly. You’re not going to deny that you’re attracted to him, even if he clearly is older than you are. It’s just really not the best time. 

“Meh, not right now at least,” you say with a shrug shoving the remaining texts in a random spot. Done with that task, you walk back to the desk. 

“‘Not right now’, but maybe later?” John asks hopefully. 

This time you chuckle. “You’re something else, you know that?” you tell him, allowing yourself a smile. 

“You have no idea, love,” John says. “But I’d be more than happy to show you sometime.”

Your response is cut off when the door opens again. “John, don’t hit on my assistant,” Ritchie says as he enters the room. 

“No worries, Professor,” you grin. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Oh, you can handle me all you’d like,” John comments. 

“Yeah, still gonna pass.” 

“But just for now, right?”

Ritchie comes to stand between you and John protectively, and you can’t help but feel appreciative of the gesture, even if it didn’t seem to be warranted. “John, what are you doing here?” he demands. There’s tension between the two and you take his tone as your cue to make yourself scarce.

“Need your help, old son,” John says to Ritchie. “Zed sent me. Trouble may be brewing ‘round here again.” 

Ritchie’s face turns from annoyance to worry. You want to ask what John means by “trouble” but you don’t get the chance because the professor turns to you. “Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” 

“Sure thing,” you say, picking up your bag. “Same time?”

Ritchie nods. “Yeah, that’ll be great, thanks,” he says. “Sorry for this.” 

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you assure him. “Got to do some homework anyways. Probably will head to the library. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You turn to leave, only to nearly bump into John. 

“Shame you have to rush off so soon,” he says, stepping into your personal space. “We were just getting acquainted.”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him. “Nice meeting you, John.” 

He watches you go, giving you another once over. “Pleasure’s all mine, love,” he purrs, lips curling.

Despite your disinterest earlier, you can’t help the sway of your hips, knowing John is watching. He certainly is handsome, and in another setting you probably would have went for it. But when you're working, you're there to get stuff done. Not to flirt. No matter how British and sexy the man is.

Your walk must have the desired effect because as you head out the door, Ritchie mutters, “Jesus Christ, John. Can you not?”

The library is surprisingly busy for the start of the term. You manage to find a secluded spot to set up and spend the next few hours pouring over your class notes. However, you can't seem to get John Constantine out of your head. Every time you think you’re focused, you find your thoughts wandering. 

He's there in the back of your mind, with his dark eyes and expressive lips. You bet that mouth could do wonderful things. 

It’s after dark out when you finally stop trying to do homework. Annoyed you didn’t get as much done as you had hoped, you pack up your belongings. Pushing open the library door, the crisp fall air hits you full force and you tug your hoodie tighter around yourself. The campus is eerily quiet as you start in the direction of your dorm. It seems most people have already gone home for the weekend. 

At first. 

The echo of footsteps doesn’t mean much, until you stop to tie your shoe and the sound continues. Stomach bubbling with unease, you start to walk again, only this time the footsteps get louder as they get closer. It seems like they’re following you, and the thought is enough to get your heart racing. Steps quickening, you keep your head down and walk towards your dorm. But the footsteps match the pacing. As you round a corner, you collide with someone. 

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you say, stumbling. 

John smiles at you around a cigarette. “Whoa there,” he says. “Was hoping we’d run into each other again, though didn't mean literally. Fancy meeting you here.” 

“John, thank god it’s you,” you sigh with relief. “I'm pretty sure someone is following me.” 

John’s smile fades and he cranes his neck to look past you. His expression makes your heart leap in your throat. “Hate to break it to you, love,” he says softly. “There’s a man watching us.” 

A chill runs down your spine and you’re frozen in fear. “Fuck, alright,” you say. “Put your arms around me. Pretend we’re together.” 

“No need to tell me twice,” John wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close. His warmth is comforting and chases away some of the chill. “Maybe you should give us a kiss. Really sell it.” 

“Don’t push your luck,” you say, hugging John as if to greet him. “Can you walk me to my dorm?”

“Actually, you’ll be safer in Ritchie’s office,” John says. 

“Why? Who’s watching me?” 

“It’s more of a what than a who,” he says, arm slung around your shoulders. He steers you in the direction of the academic building. 

Your arm comes to rest around his waist.“I don’t understand,” you say. 

“I’ll explain when we’re in the clear,” John says. “Stick close.” 

Despite the added company, you can tell that you're still being followed. From the way John’s grip tightens, he senses it too and he's just on edge as you are. He smells like incense and cigarette smoke, both of which tickles your nostrils each time you inhale. John drops the remainder of his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it as you both hurry your steps. 

“Full disclosure, I’m terrified right now,” you admit.

“I’ve got you, love,” John says. “You’re safe with me.”

A loud piercing hiss cuts through darkness behind you, making you both look back. Burning red eyes meet yours before John seizes your hand. 

“Run!”

You both bolt, causing the screeching to become louder. You’re too scared to look back again and focus on the doors of the building as they loom closer. But when you reach them, they’re locked. 

“Fuck!” you snap as John tugs on the handles. 

“We’ll go ‘round back,” he says, ushering you in the direction of the other entrance. You run around the side of the building, John right on your heels. You manage to duck in through a maintenance door and John slams it closed. 

It rattles dangerously, but the auto lock keeps whoever is chasing you out. John places his hand on the door and says something you don't quite catch. There's a flash of light and then the door is still. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he just did, John backs up and turns to face you.

“You alright, love?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah, just fucking scared.”

“S’alright, we're okay,” he says, reassuringly. “Come now, let's go find Ritchie.”

The professor is at his desk when you arrive to his office. He says your name questioningly and stands as soon as he sees John's with you.

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

“Right as rain,” John says, sliding his coat off to drape it over the armrest of the couch. 

“Not you,” Ritchie says, annoyed. 

“I'm okay,” you tell him. 

“The vampire didn’t take too kindly to me helping his prey,” John says. “Put a warding spell on the door we came through, but it won't last forever.”

Vampire? What the hell?

“You’re lucky it didn’t get both of you,” Ritchie snaps. “It’s probably circling the building looking for another way in.” 

“One of us should kill it before it gets bored and wanders off,” John says. “We don’t know when another chance will come our way. I'll go.”

“No, no, not after what happened last time,” Ritchie says. “I won't have what happened to Adam happen again. It's my teaching assistant it's hunting. I'll go.”

John looks impressed. “If you insist, mate,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“You stay here with her in case it gets past me,” Ritchie says, running his hand through his wild hair. He turns to you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t make much sense. You probably think we’re crazy. But stay here with John. This office is protected, you’ll be safe here.” 

“From a vampire?” you ask. “You do know this sounds ridiculous, right?”

“Trust us, love,” John says. “If not about the vampire, then trust that we want you to be safe.” 

You sigh heavily and sink onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor. “Okay,” you say. You really have no reason not to. You’ve known the professor for a long time now, and if he trusts that you’re safe with John in that office, you’re not going to argue. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ritchie says, seizing his messenger bag from his chair. “John, lock the door behind me.” 

John nods and follows him across the room. Unable to remain still, you stand and start to pace, arms wrapped around yourself to try to stop the shivering. 

“John, she's scared,” Ritchie says in a low voice. 

“I know, mate,” John says. “Don't worry ‘bout a thing. I'll comfort her.”

Ritchie gives a sarcastic chuckle. “Oh, I am familiar with your idea of ‘comfort',” he says in a warning tone. 

“I promise to be a perfectly respectful gentleman,” John assures him. “Unless she comes onto me.”

“Yeah, fat chance. I'll be back as soon as I can.” 

You're too busy pacing to watch him leave. John locks the door, turning to glance your way. After a moment of debate, he crosses to you. “Hey, hey, we’ll get this mess sorted,” he says reassuringly. “Come here. Give us a hug.”

Shaking, you throw yourself into his open arms, burying your face in his chest. He holds you close, stubbled chin scratching your forehead as he nuzzles your hair. A wave of warmth washes over you, making you tilt your head to look up at him.

You eyes drawn to his twitching lips, the very ones you were thinking about all evening. They’re smirking at you now and before you can stop yourself, you kiss him. There’s no hesitation in his touch when a his hand slides into your hair, tangling in the locks as the other comes to rest on your lower back. He holds you in place, drawing your body flush along his. His warm, wet tongue pushes past your lips to explore your mouth, tasting of ash and coffee. You clutch the front of his shirt, deepening the kiss as much as possible. 

John groans, nipping at your bottom lip, pushing on you until you’re trapped between him and the desk. It’s your turn to groan, shuddering under the assault. Gasping for breath, John breaks the kiss, eyes sparkling in the dim light of the office. 

“And here Ritchie was worried about me,” he teases breathlessly, nose brushing yours. “Interested in my offer to pass the time now?”  

“What, right here?” you ask. 

John smirks, lifting you to sit on the desk. “With a kiss like that, a bloke can get the wrong message,” he says. “But, judging by the fact that you haven’t pushed me away, I’m thinking I’m reading your signals loud and clear. What do you say?” 

He pushes up your long skirt so he can stroke the smooth skin of your outer thighs. His touch is hot and rough, sending a stab of desire through you. 

“Door’s locked, it’s gonna take Ritchie some time to do what he has to do. Of course, we could just sit and have a nice chat.” 

By the way his hands are inching towards your inner thighs, you have a feeling he really doesn’t want to talk. You crane your neck to glance at the door and John takes the opportunity to suck on the exposed flesh. It drags a moan out of you and you feel yourself get wet nearly instantly. 

“Did you do this?” you ask. “Did you set this up just to fuck me?”

John pulls back with a laugh. “Not out of character for me, but I can assure you, that’s not what’s going on here,” he says. 

“What  _ is  _ going on here?” you ask. 

“Two people who are attracted to each other, riding on the high from being in danger,” John says, resting his hands on the surface of the desk, effectively trapping you with his body. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop. It’s up to you.”

Fucking a man you just met isn’t exactly something you’re used to, but your body is singing and you can’t think of anything else but what it will feel like to have him inside of you. 

“We have to be quick. Professor Simpson could be back any minute,” you say, unzipping your hoodie so you can get rid of it.

Grinning excitedly, John reaches for your underwear, removing them in one quick movement as you lift your hips to assist. You hurry to open your blouse while he rids himself of his tie. After, he places his wallet on the desk, hungry gaze focused on your newly freed tits. Cupping them through your bra, John kneads the flesh excitedly, pulling down one side of the fabric to free your nipple. He bends his head and sucks the bud between his lips, eliciting a loud gasp. It doesn’t last long as you yank him into another kiss, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Hands abandoning your tits for the time being, John's rough thumb rubs firm circles around your clit, making you jerk and moan. 

“Oh, you’re ready to go, aren’t you?” John coos, thumb dipping down to swirl through your arousal.

“It’s been awhile,” you admit, opening John’s shirt. Whatever you're going to say gets lost when you take in the smattering of scars. Quite honestly, you weren’t expecting them. You run your hands up his chest, tracing a few until you realize what you're doing and glance up to find John watching you. He takes your hands and places then around his neck. 

“You good, love?” he asks, pressing closer.

Was that a touch of insecurity you detect? You can’t be sure, but he needn’t worry. “Let’s do this,” you say.

John’s chuckle is cut off when you force him into a kiss. His hand dips back down between your legs to explore once more. Your hips twitch upward with small thrusts as his thumb glides through your puffy lips, swollen from need. 

“Wallet,” he mumbles into your mouth. 

You break the kiss to grab the object, only to have John’s tongue trace your collarbone. It makes you moan and arch into him, briefly losing your train of thought.

When you open the wallet, you find condoms tucked next to his cash. You grab a package while he removes his hand from your skirt. As you watch, he sucks his thumb, savouring the taste of you with a whimper. The next time you kiss, his tongue is laced with the taste of your slick and it makes you even more desperate to be fucked. You clutch the condom as he unbuckles his belt, opening his black pants to draw out his cock. 

The thickness has your breath caught in your throat, mind reeling with anticipation. He takes a step back to admire you; shirt open, chest heaving, long skirt bunched around your waist so you’re cunt is fully exposed. 

John fixes you with a hungry stare, stroking himself until his cock is full and pink, begging for your attention. It looks even thicker now and you can't wait anymore. You hop from the desk and drop to your knees, mouth watering at the piece of flesh. He’s smooth and hard against your tongue, filling your mouth so much it makes you moan. John tangles his fingers in your hair, pressing his hips forward with a small experimental thrust. You take as much as you can, stroking what doesn’t fit. Your tongue dances along the underside of his cock, tracing the vein the throbs under your attention. 

“Bloody hell,” John swears with a grunt. “Sure know how to use that tongue.” 

You let him slip from your mouth, only to give him one long lick from base to tip, lapping at the small bead of precome. He grabs the back of your neck with a growl, gripping himself firmly as he directs his cock into your open and willing mouth. You stick your tongue out so he can slide himself along it and his cheeks flush, bottom lip mashed under his top teeth. 

“Gonna remember this image for a long time,” he groans, tracing your lips with the head of his prick. 

You swirl your tongue around him, briefly tonguing his slit. “John, we probably should—”

“Right,” John remembers the time constraints. “Plenty of time for that later, though it’s your fault for getting on your knees.” 

You let him drag you to your feet so he can lift you onto the desk again. “I regret nothing.”

John laughs, grabbing the discarded condom. “Glad to hear it,” he says. He tears open the package, carefully removing the rubber. You watch him roll it onto his cock, giving himself a few tugs as his eyes meet yours. “Spread those legs for me, would you, love?”

You lift your skirt out of the way, displaying yourself to John’s watchful eye. He’s on you instantly, mouth hungrily devouring yours in a brutal kiss. The head of his cock slides down your folds, making you shudder violently. John draws his face back so he can watch your expression when he pushes into your ready body. You gasp and cling to him, shaking as he withdraws only to thrust back in further.

“Fuck!” you moan. 

John wraps your legs around his waist, sliding nearly all the way out before burying himself in to the hilt. His hands drop to the table, starting a fast and near brutal pace. You love every second of it, hooking your heels together and pulling him each time he draws out. The desk jerks and scrapes along the floor, papers and books spilling in all directions. John’s mouth is relentless on your neck, biting and sucking any spot he can find. You hook one arm around his neck while you clutch the edge of the desk with your free hand. 

God he’s stretching you more than you’ve ever been stretched, filling you so much you can’t help the noises spilling out of your mouth. You never realized sex could be this way; so raw and needy, neither holding back your desire for the other. Minutes seem to drag by as he bangs you on the desk, but eventually you lose track of time, too focused on the heat his touch has ignited.

“Oh yeah, that’s it, love,” John coos in your ear. “Take my cock like good girl.”

You chuckle. “Wouldn’t it be ‘bad girl’?” you question, breaking off into a high pitched moan.

“Ohh, do you want to be called a bad girl?” John grunts, with a particularly deep thrust. 

“Kinda.”

“You’re a naughty girl,” John pants in your ear, hips never slowing down. “Fuckin’ a bloke you jus’ met. Takin’ my cock on your professor’s desk, like a fuckin’ champ.”

You’re drenched in sweat and his words make you feel dirty. And you like it. “Yes, yes I am,” you hiss, the familiar feeling of an orgasm beginning in the pit of your stomach. “What does that make you?”

“One lucky bastard,” John grins. You pull him into another kiss, hips gyrating to meet his when he hits your spot dead on. He swallows your gasp, fingers digging into your thighs so hard you suspect there will be bruises tomorrow. 

“Gonna come, John,” you say. “Can’t hold on much longer.” 

“Don’t. Come for me, you bad girl,” John growls, seizing your waist. “Johnny needs to feel you come so he can come. Go ahead, come ‘round my cock.”

“Touch me, John,” you plead. 

John’s hand slips down your thigh, his thumb blindly seeking your clit. You reach down to help him, bringing his hand to where you need it the most. Your body tenses when you finally come, squeezing John’s hips with your thighs as wave after wave of pleasure takes over. John chants your name, slamming against you with one, two, three more thrusts. Then he’s shuddering in your arms, hands coming to rest on the desk once more. 

The thrusting doesn't stop for nearly a minute as John rides out his release. Kissing steals what little breath you have, but you match his enthusiasm until you're forced to part. His hips stop moving and his face disappears into your neck when he slumps forward, knocking you flat onto your back. It sends you both into a fit of breathless giggles, trying to catch your breath. The laughter subsides and the room grows eerily quiet.

After a few minutes of silence, John places a large wet kiss on your neck. “Be curious to see what happens when you  _ are  _ interested,” he teases. 

With a laugh, you lower your weak legs, giving him space to draw out. You shudders from the lose of him, sweat slick skin chilling from the lack of body heat. Still standing between your legs, John looks down at you with admiration, his chest still rising and falling quickly. He offers you his hand and you take it, sitting up with a groan. John backs away to give you some space, allowing you take a moment to pull yourself together.

John disposes of the condom quickly and begins to dress as well, tucking himself into his pants and scouring the floor for his shirt. Clothes are tossed and traded as you redress quickly, knowing Ritchie could reappear at any moment.

Completely dressed again, John walks to the window, opening it all the way. A cold breeze sweeps in, rustling papers and taking away the smell of sex. Once that's done, he helps you straighten the items that have fallen off the desk. You’re just putting a stack of books neatly back into place, when there’s a knock on the door. John is in the process of lighting a cigarette and flips the lighter closed. You make a move toward the door, but he holds up a hand to stop you. 

Oh right, it could be your follower. The two of you wait in silence for a moment, until you hear Ritchie’s voice call, “John, it’s me, open up.”

John looks at you to make sure you’re decent before heading for the door. It's then you notice your underwear under the desk where they were kicked and forgotten. “Wait!”

John sees it too, taking a drag and watching with amusement as you hurry to wiggle into them. You straighten your skirt and give him the thumbs up. 

When Ritchie knocks once more, John says, “Alright, keep your hair on.” He shoots you a grin around the stick in his mouth and pulls the door open. “That was fast.”

Ritchie looks shaken, but relieved. “It’s done,” he says. “Looks like that was the only one.”

“So, I can go home?” you ask, picking your bag up and slinging the strap over one shoulder. 

Ritchie nods. “Yeah, you’re safe now,” he says. 

“Brilliant, well done, mate,” John says, patting Ritchie on the back. “Still, I should walk her home. It’s late. She shouldn’t be out there alone, even without vampires.” 

“No, no, I'll do it,” Ritchie says. “I'm sure you have a bottle of whiskey to get back to.”

Ritchie still seems to be trying to protect you from John, which is funny considering he just left you alone, locked in a room with him. 

“I can walk myself,” you suggest. “Don't want to cause more trouble than I've already have.”

“S’no trouble,” John says, grabbing his trench coat from the armrest of the couch. “Headed out anyways.” He grins at Ritchie. “You should get some rest, old son. You've earned it.”

John places a gentle hand on your lower back and steers you towards the door. The look he shoots you is heated and filled with promise. You fight a similar grin, already thinking about getting your mouth around him again. Or maybe even having his mouth on you.

“John,” Ritchie calls in warning. 

You both freeze and turn to look back at him. His suspicious gaze flits to John and then to you, only to return to John. You pray your hoodie hides the hickeys on your neck. 

“Yeah, mate?” John asks, laid back tone surprising you. He takes a drag of his cigarette, his hand sliding down your back to squeeze your ass. You hold in a gasp while trying not to jump.

Ritchie doesn't notice, too focused on glaring at John to see his wandering hand. “Don’t hit on her,” he orders. 

John smirks. “Don’t worry, mate,” he says, ushering you out the door. “I know when a bird’s not interested.” 

You don’t relax until you’re out of earshot. “That was close.”

“Doesn’t suspect a thing,” John says, arm slung around your shoulders. “Let’s hope he doesn’t dig through his trash too much though. So, got a roommate in this dorm of yours?”

Smirking, you grab his ass this time, making him twitch and chuckle. “Yeah, but she’s gone for the weekend.” 

John looks positively delighted. “Perfect,” he says, smoking billowing out of his mouth in small puffs. “My schedule’s wide open.” 


End file.
